Page 62 of Captive Rival: Armani
“It was,” I agree, even though I barely ate two bites of it.
Drumming her fingers on the table, she cocks her head and looks at me. “You know, there actuallyissomething I need you to do for me right away.”
Pulling out my phone, I open up the notes app so I can start a list.
“Sure. What is it? You want me to look into caterers, florists…?”
“No, no. Not that.” She leans closer. “I want you to find out who exactly was on that yacht with you and Armani. The heavy hitters. Uncle Sergio needs to know who’s loyal and who’s lying.”
The phone slips from my hand and hits the table, my stomach dropping.
I didn’t mention the yacht. I didn’t mention anything about my time on the island at all.
She draws back and laughs. “Oh, come on. Did you really think we didn’t know about Armani’s little rendezvous with his family’s mob besties? We had tabs on you two ever since the Bellanti plane took off from SFO.”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out. I can feel my pulse blip with a beat of fear.
For the first time, I’m truly afraid of my best friend.
“Find out who was on that yacht, Candi,” she repeats. “The sooner, the better.”
22
ARMANI
It is a rare occasion,indeed.
The Bellanti brothers are gathered for an official Bellanti Vineyards wine tasting.
I don’t usually attend these things, but this is no routine tasting. We’re sampling variations on a brand-new blend that our winery is soon to be introducing to our product line.
The reason for the new wine? For the last four years, we’ve been selling a rosé that we pressed using Mourvèdre grapes purchased from Spain. It had brighter, fruiter, more acidic characteristics than it should have, but we just assumed it was a natural variation of the grapes. It certainly sold enough cases that we saw no cause for concern.
Enter Dante’s wife Frankie, who studied viticulture in Italy.
“These aren’t Mourvèdre grapes,” she’d informed us last season. “They’re Graciano.”
“Impossible,” Dante had said.
“Look at those bronze tips,” she’d insisted. “Graciano, all the way. I’d bet my life on it.”
And so they’d gone back and forth about it for months—an argument that was only settled after a sample of the cuttings had been sent to UC San Francisco for genetic testing. Turns out, Frankie was right. Graciano all the way.
We’re still not sure how the mix-up happened. But what we do know is that we can use this new varietal of grape to make a Tempranillo-Graciano blend. We’ve unanimously agreed to call it Lili Grace, after Dante’s daughter. And today, we get to taste the literal fruits of our labor, all thanks to Frankie.
Marco is running late, which surprises none of us. Prior to his marriage to Karina, I’d probably assume that he was up until sunrise with his flavor of the week and had only just put his pants on when he realized the meeting was starting at that exact moment. Now that Marco is married…well, I’m guessing his tardiness is due to similar reasons, with one very specific personnel change.
Dante is still updating me on how things are going with the baby when our little brother bursts into the Little Cellar—the exclusive, private space located beneath the large pavilion where the public samples Bellanti wines—and collapses into an empty chair like he’s sliding into home base for a run.
“I’m here,” he says breathlessly.
“We noticed,” I say.
“So. What are we going to do?” he asks.
“Drink,” Dante says, filling our glasses with a few splashes of the first Lili Grace blend.
“I meanwhat are we going to do about the Brunos,” Marco says impatiently.
